


We Forget To Breathe

by DrowningByDegrees



Series: Home is Where We Make It [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Banter, Couch Sex, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 10:52:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12886332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrowningByDegrees/pseuds/DrowningByDegrees
Summary: Bucky complains about Steve's taste in movies. Steve is more than happy to make it up to him.





	We Forget To Breathe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lucifuge5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucifuge5/gifts).



> One of my auctions for the [ Fandom Loves Puerto Rico](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/FandomLovesPuertoRico) event was a series of drabbles, won by [Lucifuge5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucifuge5). They asked for domestic, slice of life sorts of things. This is the final part of a series of 5 drabbles which can all be read independently, but are in the same storyline and are posted linearly.

Home had been an abstract, out of reach concept for so long that Bucky wasn’t quite sure what to do with it now that it was real. Wishful thinking evolved into carpets and walls and furniture in the shape of an apartment around them. It had become quiet evenings between missions, nights like this, under the blankets in their pajamas, with his body tucked against Steve’s on the couch. That was the crux of it, wasn’t it? Existing with Steve was what home was more than anything. Their apartment just gave the concept a tangible place to exist. 

“This was a good choice,” Steve murmured over the dialogue of the show they were watching. Bucky hated when he did that, but it was such a preposterous thing to say that he couldn’t help finding it a little bit endearing too. He paused the movie, giving Steve an incredulous look in the muted light from the television.

“The movie? It’s kind of awful. I’m going to want my hour and a half back,” Bucky countered dryly. 

Steve chuckled and shook his head. “Not the movie. The couch. The movie is terrible.”

“Like I said, someone owes me my time back,” Bucky murmured, a slow, sly smile curling on his lips. “You picked the movie, so…”

“Clearly, it’s up to me to make this up to both of us,” Steve agreed, theatrically somber about the whole thing. 

“Damn right it is-” Bucky started. He never got to finish, interrupted by Steve’s fingers in his hair, tugging him in for a kiss. It was a consuming thing, a warm, languid pull of Steve’s lips against his that left Bucky breathless. 

Bucky sighed when their lips parted, smiling at the way Steve lingered. When he spoke, Steve’s mouth brushed against Bucky’s so tantalizingly that it was hard to pay attention. “Better?”

“An hour,” Bucky complained. Steve’s hand was still in his hair, tugging playfully in a way that made Bucky’s breath hitch, his body drawing instinctively closer. “And a half.”

“Oh, is that how it’s going to be?” Steve shifted where they were sitting, so subtly that Bucky didn’t catch it at first. They’d been upright, but before Bucky knew it, he was lying back against the couch cushions with Steve hovering over him. In the light from the tv, he looked positively wicked. 

Lazily, Bucky reached up to curl his arms around Steve’s shoulders, reeling him in. “You’ve known me practically your whole life, Steve. Did you really expect any different?”

“You probably have a point.” Steve laughed and dipped his head, catching Bucky’s lips in another kiss. They were so close, Bucky barely had to arch his spine before their bodies were flush, leaving him terribly pleased that pajamas hadn’t included a shirt for either of them this evening. 

Bucky forgot they’d been talking at all after that because Steve broke off from kissing him to nip at the junction where his jaw met his throat. It was utterly unfair, but Bucky melted anyway, nails scraping urgently down Steve’s spine. His breath came quick and shivery as Steve suckled at the column of his neck, Bucky’s head tipping back instinctively in response. 

The sound of an explosion came from the television speakers, not that Bucky was actively listening. It seemed fitting though, for it to be punctuated by Steve’s teeth pressing down against Bucky’s skin until he saw fireworks. Directionless but wanting, Bucky scrabbled at Steve wherever he could reach, clutching at his hair and shoulders.

Sometimes, in their eagerness, they forgot to breathe. Any thought Bucky might have had to slow down and relish the moment was driven off by Steve sliding into the space between his thighs. Steve’s hips were so close, Bucky could feel how hard he was already. Not that Bucky had an inch of room to talk, but a teasing jibe was right on the tip of his tongue anyway. 

Then Steve moved. He rolled his hips and even through the thin fabric of their pajama pants, the heat and friction dragged a whimper from Bucky. Arching up off the couch, Bucky chased after harder, more, a little too unraveled to find any sense of rhythm. 

Their lips met now and again, fleeting and artless as they chased each other off into oblivion. They were all sharp teeth and tangled tongues and Steve moaning into Bucky’s mouth as Bucky dragged him closer. Instinctively trying to keep close, Bucky slung his leg over the back of Steve’s thigh, his heel anchoring them both.

It could have been enough, just like that. Bucky was caught up in the moment, the soft fabric of the couch cushions rubbing against his shoulders each time Steve rocked forward. It seemed a shame to give up what leverage he had with his hand curled around the nape of Steve’s neck. Before he could decide if getting rid of their clothes was worth the effort, Steve had made the decision for them. Sort of.

Maybe Steve was waffling over the same indecision because no one’s clothes made it very far, Steve gave up his grip on the couch only long enough to yank Bucky’s pajama pants halfway down his hips. It was just enough for Steve to wrap his hand around Bucky’s cock, and Bucky whined when he stroked it twice and then his hand was gone. 

Before Bucky could put together enough words to complain, Steve’s hand was back, and Steve’s dick along with it. Everything was heat and friction, Steve’s palm dragging in a desperate sort of cadence, wrapped around the both of them. 

Any semblance of control fell apart after that. Bucky kissed Steve’s mouth, his jaw, his chin, hardly caring for the way it strained his neck muscles to reach. Steve threw his weight against the arm of the couch to hold himself steady, stroking them both as quickly as he could. Bucky might have appreciated the soft blue light from the tv washing over Steve’s face, but he was too caught up to notice. 

It started at the top of Bucky’s abdomen, the twitch and coil of muscles tightening down his stomach to his groin. He didn’t even manage a warning before he shuddered. Steve’s name was a litany tumbling off his lips, littered with the occasional appreciative curse. His cock pulsed in Steve’s hand and coming hot and sticky across his own stomach. 

“Jesus, Buck,” Steve breathed out, his head falling like a lead weight against Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky couldn’t see, but he felt the way Steve’s shoulders bunched under his splayed fingers, moaning against the shell of Bucky’s ear. Steve sagged against him, but despite the mess, Bucky couldn’t bring himself to mind. 

\---

The credits were rolling before either of them managed anything like a conversation. 

“I’m really glad,” Bucky mumbled, eyes closed as he pressed his cheek to Steve’s temple.

“That we missed the last part of the movie?” Steve asked, his voice was muffled against the crook of Bucky’s neck. It was a soft rumble through Steve’s chest that Bucky could feel where their bodies met. 

“No.” Bucky laughed and kissed Steve’s face, though mostly he could only reach Steve’s hair. He relaxed against the cushions, idly skimming his fingers along Steve’s back. If this wasn’t home, Bucky would be damned if he knew what was. “That we didn’t get the leather couch.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on my [personal](http://www.drowningbydegrees.tumblr.com) or [art/fic](http://www.drowningbydegrees-fanworks.tumblr.com) Tumblr!


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